Platinum (Facets of Passion)

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “You stopped. When I said the safe word, you stopped immediately. I think I should have said it sooner.”

  A dry chuckle coughed out of him. “Uh, yeah. That would help, sweetheart.”

  “I want to try again. You said you could teach me.”

  “Tonight?” He sounded surprised, but also—yes, excited. His thumb passed over her palm and she could practically feel his skin warming. “You’ve been through the wringer. We don’t have to do everything right away.”

  “Tonight.” Before she started obsessing about it. “But on my terms.”

  “Name the terms,” he breathed.

  “I want you to wear those chaps and your motorcycle jacket. Nothing else. Meet me in my bedroom.” Exhilaration spun through her. This is how it felt to take control. Good. Powerful.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “And may I say, I love the way you think.”

  * * *

  She lit candles, covering them with hurricane lamps to amplify their glow and protect the flames from the warm ocean breezes. She put on a white negligee Abby had given her, just a simple column of silk, and let her hair fall loose. On impulse, she slipped on very high pearl sandals. Then she just waited.

  He’d raised an eyebrow when she handed him a card with the codes for the various doors, but didn’t comment. Really, he didn’t need to.

  The front door opened and she took a breath, steadying her nerves. But all hesitation fled when he stopped in her bedroom doorway, bracing his hands on the molding.

  Oh. Yes.

  The black leather jacket hung open, showing the tanned chest beneath, the erotic coil of the dragon tattoo. The dusting of hair arrowed down his midline, pointing the way to the chaps hanging low on his hips and framing his erect cock.

  “Nothing like a little contrast,” she whispered, riveted.

  “May I come in, Miss Althea?” He asked it humbly, giving her all the power. She stood, enjoying the way he took her in.

  “On your knees, yes.” She threw it out there, to see what he would do.

  Eyes glittering with lust, he lowered himself to his knees and crawled across her white carpet. Not quite humble, though. More like a predatory cat, stalking her, gaze challenging her.

  He paused at her feet and pressed a reverent kiss to the toes revealed by her strappy shoe.

  “Thank you for wearing these shoes,” he breathed. “They’re beautiful.”

  She hadn’t thought about how he liked shoes. Serendipity that she’d put them on. She sat back down on the foot of the bed.

  “To express your gratitude, you may kiss my feet as you wish.” She tried to sound imperious, but her breath fluttered. His curly head bent low, pressing fervent, hot kisses to her arches, ankles, a tongue darting between her toes and making her gasp. The chaps left his ass bare and she could just see the taut curves of it. The sensual haze swamped her, leaving her languid. Like a goddess.

  “Stand up,” she murmured, loving how he obeyed immediately. “Hold onto the rail over your head.”

  He wrapped his artist’s hands around the curlicued horizontal bar that connected the posts at the foot of the bed, standing before her. On display. She stroked his cock, enjoying the velvety skin, the strength of the hot blood under it. His face tensed in a rictus of concentration. Pinching the tender tip, where a bit of fluid leaked out, she luxuriated in the way he responded. The way he tried to focus into the distance, to control himself.

  “Teach me,” she ordered.

  “Reach into my jacket pocket—there’s something in there for you.”

  She felt around and felt a hard cylinder, pulled it out.

  “Lipstick?”

  “All blowjobs are better with red lipstick.” Steel winked at her. “It’s one of the rules.”

  She got up, went to the mirror and stroked it on. She’d never worn red lipstick in her life. The scarlet color screamed in startling contrast to her skin, blatantly sexual. She began to see his point.

  When she sat on the bed again, Steel took one look at her and his cock flexed along with his curse of pleasure. Well worth it.

  “Now what?”

  “You like ice cream, princess?” At her uncertain nod, he smiled. “Lick the head, just like an ice-cream cone you’re tasting for the first time. Slow and easy. Think about enjoying it like that.”

  She flicked her tongue against the reddened head. He groaned. Emboldened, she sucked the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around, experimenting, tasting. His skin there felt velvet smooth, salty and a hint of sweet. She traced the ridge under the head. The skin of his shaft felt different than on the head, soft still, but with that underlayer of hardness. She checked his expression. He had his eyes screwed shut, his face tense.

  “Is that wrong?”

  His eyes flew open. “Fuck—it’s so good I’m counting baseball stats not to come in that gorgeous crimson mouth right now.”

  “Oh.” She gazed at his cock, suddenly nervous.

  “I won’t. I’ll tell you so you can pull away, okay? Just…please. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

  “No,” she said, digging in. “I know there’s more. Deeper, you said. I want to learn this.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, eyes glittering. “Okay—start like you were before. Awww…damn. So sweet, so hot. Now work it deeper. Draw it in. Make your mouth soft.”

  His voice trailed off into a groan and he flexed his hands on the bar. Easing her way into it, she took him deeper into her mouth, full against her tongue, large and hot. Too full. Feeling a flutter of panic, she gagged and pulled back.

  “Wrap your hand around my cock at the root,” Steel coaxed. “You’re in control. You decide how deep I go. If it’s too much, just ease back little, relax and try again.”

  “Like this?” She held him at the base and sucked him in a little. That did make it better. In control.

  “It all feels just fine. You do just what you want to do.”

  “Look at me then.”

  Holding his gaze, she slid the straps of her negligee down, letting the silk fall off her breasts. His gaze fastened on them and she stroked her nipples, loving the way his muscles flexed, as if he wanted to seize her. But he continued to hold onto the rail, hers to command.

  “Spread your legs,” she told him, stroking his strong thighs. She could cup his balls now, so she played with them while she held his cock tame with her fist. They were fascinating, the way they floated inside their sacs, heavy and slick. She scratched them with her nails and Steel hissed. He obeyed, watching her, beads of sweat running down his face.

  Holding his balls, she sucked in his cock, just as far as she liked, stroking him in and out of her mouth. He tasted of sex and man, the sense of him filling her nearly as strong as when he was inside her. This, then, was why women liked to do this.

  That and having this man so tightly leashed to her, shuddering under each flick of her tongue.

  “How do I take it deeper?”

  “You’re going to kill me.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Relax your throat. Do like when the doctor asks you to say ‘ahhh.’ Ohhh…shit, yes. Breathe—breathe through your nose, slow and even. Keep it soft, easy. Exactly so… And stop. Right now.”

  Althea pulled back, alarmed by the pain in his voice. “What? Did I hurt you?”

  Steel gripped the rail, head hanging as he panted, his cock bright red and shining with streaked lipstick.

  “No—so good. I can’t hold back. If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, I need you to stop.”

  She thought about it. Thought about his demands, that she take all of him.

  “Is it better that way?”

  He wiped his forehead on his jacket sleeve. “There’s a thing—yeah. A woman swallows your come
and it’s…I dunno. Can we discuss it later? Frankly I’d like to come any way you’ll let me right now.”

  She’d save it for next time. Besides, she wanted him inside her. Selfish or not.

  “Do you have a condom?”

  “In my other jacket pocket.”

  She took it out, tore open the foil and smoothed the condom onto him, taking the opportunity to squeeze him as she did, enjoying his muttered curse.

  “Stay where you are,” she told him and rose, letting the gown fall to the floor. She turned back the covers of the bed, neatly and carefully, making sure his gaze followed her. She started to take off the shoes, stopped and left them on for him, ignoring her mother’s horrified voice shrieking in her head about shoes on the bed. Defiant, she lay back on the heaped pillows, drew up her knees and spread her legs.

  “Christ, Althea…” Steel ground out.

  “You may service me now.”

  She said it lightly, playfully, then shrieked when he dove on her. His mouth fastened on her sex, hiking her thighs up over her shoulders and driving her into an instant frenzy. He licked, nibbled and sucked at her like a wild thing, and she wrapped her hands in his hair, begging him incoherently for more.

  He crawled up her body, her thighs still hooked over his shoulders, and stopped, poised at her entrance, feral gaze drilling into her.

  “May I?”

  Mute, she nodded, then threw back her head when he plunged into her. The depth, the intensity was nearly unbearable, and she writhed beneath him, clinging to him, digging in her nails. Emotion, pleasure indistinguishable took her in a great wave.

  Steel kissed her, their tongues twining, and they went over together, inextricably entwined with each other.

  * * *

  He stayed the night, shucking the leather and snuffing the candles, then cuddling her close. She fell into sleep, barely aware of the cats settling onto the bed with them.

  In the morning, she woke to the sound of Steel murmuring to Tassi, calling him a good little tomcat. She opened her eyes, taking in his very tousled hair and stubbled face. Tassi was splayed unashamedly on his back, paws wide while Steel rubbed his belly.

  “He doesn’t have much ‘Tom’ left,” she said. “I’m afraid that was taken care of quite some time ago.”

  “Shh.” Steel gave her a mock stern look. “Never speak of it. We didn’t hear a thing, did we, Tassi? No—you’re a manly cat.”

  She giggled and he flashed a grin at her, then leaned in and kissed her.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” She suddenly felt a little shy.

  “I know you need to get up and open the gallery. Can I see you tonight? I have something special in mind. No rules. No games.”

  “Okay.” What was he up to now? “Do I dress up?”

  “No. Grubby clothes.”

  “I’m not cleaning that basement.” She climbed out of bed, her body feeling limber and strong.

  “No, darlin’.” He followed her and gave her a friendly pat on the bottom. “Much, much more fun than that.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Taking Steel at his word, she changed into her crate-packing clothes and put her hair in a serviceable ponytail before heading downstairs. Lord only knew what he would call “grubby.”

  He wasn’t in immediate sight, but the tape on the floor had been peeled up to create a little doorway. She smiled at it. No intense games tonight, as billed. What was he up to?

  “Steel?”

  “Over here!” he called back. In his painting corner. Funny how, in such a short space of time, he’d made this space his own. Very much like he’d taken over her thoughts and emotions. She couldn’t quite imagine this space—or her life—without him occupying it.

  Food for thought.

  “Wow.” She halted in surprise. Steel was naked and gleaming with oil. A huge sheet of paper occupied the entire wall, lights focused on it, and he wore a hopeful, boyish grin. Pots of paint in jewel-bright colors beckoned, with an array of enticing giant brushes, their white bristles begging for color.

  “Are you painting something big now?” she ventured.

  “Nope.” Steel spread his arms, as if embracing the world. “You are.”

  “Steel—”

  “No whining. Just painting. Here.”

  He pulled a bottle of wine from the cooler and poured her a glass. Then he handed her the biggest brush and clicked on his iPod. The Runaways’ “Cherry Bomb” started in with its urgent, sexual beat.

  “Angry-white-chick mix for you.” He spread his arms again. “Now paint.”

  She sipped the wine regarding him coolly. She hoped. The brush felt good in her hand. Too good.

  “You or the paper?”

  He winked. “Either or both. Artist’s choice.”

  “Go stand under the lights then.” Calling his bluff and setting the wine aside, she dipped the point of the brush into an alluring emerald green. Steel closed his eyes as she trailed a swath of paint down his corded neck, swirling it down over his bicep.

  She understood the oil now—all the better to wash it off later. And, oh, what inspiration. The music set the tone. I’m your wild girl. Painting a gorgeous naked man who did all manner of kinky things with her. How shocked her father would be to know what his little angel was up to. She continued Steel’s dragon, making him turn around so she could add enormous wings and a forked tail that trailed over Steel’s tight ass.

  It took her over, the painting, just like Steel did when he touched her, but in a way it never had before. All those tiny watercolors. Her eye moved to the giant canvas. So tempting.

  “Do it,” he urged. “You know you want to.”

  She did want to. Following a wild impulse, she stripped off her clothes, and her glasses, dancing to Pink’s exhortations that she was still a rock star and having more fun. Yes, indeed. With a brush in each hand, she tackled the expanse of white, filling it with big, bold strokes.

  This wasn’t the quiet studio with pristine walls and hushed silence, broken only by the whispers of brushes on canvas and the ominous click of the instructor coming to look over your shoulder.

  No. As with everything Steel did, this was loud and raw and alive.

  She threw herself into just painting. After a bit it became clear that the dragon had simply flown to the larger canvas. A female version this time, with pink shattering into black and crimson, raging flames pouring from its mouth. Fanciful, impossible. A sexual fairy tale.

  Her eyes throbbed and her throat was dry when Steel tapped her on the shoulder and handed her a bottle of water.

  Hours had gone by. The wine bottle was empty and she was more than a little drunk. Giddy with wine and art and him.

  Gulping the water, she turned to stare at what she’d painted. Steel wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her temple.

  “It’s good.” He didn’t need to elaborate.

  It was good. Silly, full of girlish fancy and dark longing, desperately in need of retooling in places—and yet, it was the best thing she’d ever done.

  “How did you know?”

  “You need big, Althea. For your eyes and for your passion. Those little watercolors were never for you.”

  “No.” She turned in his arms and raked her nails down his chest, watching the fire light in his eyes, the paint smearing over her body. “Maybe I have been living a lie.”

  Fastening her mouth on his, she drank him in, loving the way his strong arms closed around her. The paint and oil slicked their bodies and she pressed him to the floor, suddenly ravenous for him. Glad she hadn’t painted his cock, she straddled him, desperate to have him inside her.

  She sank onto him, flesh to flesh, then pulled up, slow, teasing, loving the way his jaw clenched and his fingers dug into her paint-smeared thighs. She ro
se up again, just keeping the tip inside her, and dropped by excruciating inches down his shaft. Then rose up.

  Steel’s hot gaze grabbed hers. “I’m this close to flipping you on your back and having my way with you.”

  “You know you want to.”

  And she was on her back, his hands pinning her wrists to the floor. He held her down and plunged into her, done with teasing. They both came within moments, shouts of pleasure echoing against the brick walls.

  He rolled over, taking her with him so she draped over his chest, his hands wrapped in her hair. After a time he chuckled.

  “It’s going to take a hell of a long shower to get all this paint off.”

  “It was worth it.”

  “No lie.”

  They were quiet for a bit.

  “Thank you,” she finally said.

  He didn’t have to ask what for. “I knew you had it in you. What you do with it is your choice, but if you’re an artist—” he shrugged under her cheek, “—it’s like a poison if you don’t let it out. I couldn’t let you live like that.”

  She nodded, her cheek sticky.

  “Althea—” He paused. Sighed. “You should know—I think I’m falling hard for you. I know that wasn’t your plan, but I can’t seem to stop this train.”

  She raised up and looked into his face, so hard, so vulnerable with that unloved boy lurking behind his eyes.

  “It’s okay.” She kissed him. “I’m not complaining.”

  “You’re not complaining? I drag out my still-beating heart and you say, well, at least it’s not liver?”

  She giggled, despite herself. “No, I mean—”

  He grabbed her face in his large hands and held her still for a long, smoldering kiss. His touch melted through her, opening the cold, closed-off places. He’d handed her his heart the way he’d offered her the paint brush—to do with as she wished The possibilities unfurled before her. Worlds of potential, if only she grasped them. She sighed and leaned her forehead against his, loving the feel of his skin against hers. Loving more than that, maybe.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she confessed, hoping he wouldn’t press her on this.